


Hurricane Monica

by alikatastic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abusive Terry Milkovich, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Older Sibling Iggy Milkovich, Past Rape/Non-con, bad caleb, colin milkovich is a good brother, colin milkovich is a softie, hurricane monica, soap opreas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikatastic/pseuds/alikatastic
Summary: They had looked everywhere, or so they thought. They had no clue what had happened since Ian left home, but they never thought they would be getting a call from Monica worried about him. Mickey scoured the streets for weeks trying to locate Ian. When Lip stopped by saying Monica called, he didn’t hesitate to follow him anywhere.Mickey slipped through the house, swinging his light back and forth. When he saw his redhead, his heart stopped. Ian was curled in a ball in the corner of a dark room. His eyes were open, and that is what startled Mickey. He thought for sure he was dead, but he saw Ian blink and pull wet breathe. No one was prepared for the condition Ian would come home in, but if anyone could help, it was Mickey Milkovich.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	Hurricane Monica

They had looked everywhere, or so they thought. They had no clue what had happened since Ian left home, but they never thought they would be getting a call from Monica worried about him. Mickey scoured the streets for weeks trying to locate Ian. When Lip stopped by saying Monica called, he didn’t hesitate to follow him anywhere.

The place was dark and dank. Mickey could see Lip shiver as he looked around. The place was worst than the last house he and Debbie had searched for Ian, and that is why he insisted that he and Mickey go alone. It was clearly a drug den, and Mickey didn’t like to think about his Gallagher being holed up there. He pulled out a flashlight, and Lip called out.

“Ian.” He didn’t raise his voice too much; he didn’t want to disturb anyone else who might be in the house.

“Don’t bother,” Mickey whispered to him. “Just look around and call me if you see him.”

Mickey slipped through the house, swinging his light back and forth. When he saw his redhead, his heart stopped. Ian was curled in a ball in the corner of a dark room. His eyes were open, and that is what startled Mickey. He thought for sure he was dead, but he saw Ian blink and pull wet breathe.

“Ian,” Mickey whispered as he edged closer. When Ian didn’t react, he hesitated. He wondered if the previous movement was in his head. He wondered if he was dead. He inched closer, calling out again, this time louder. “Ian.”

Ian’s head turned more towards him and gave Mickey a slow blink. “Mick?” Ian asked, but his voice was rough and hoarse.

Mickey crouched down in front of him, slowly reaching out. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Ian looked up with tears filling his eyes. Ian attempted to lift his arms but couldn’t. When he pitched sideways, Mickey caught him. Mickey couldn’t believe how thin he was; he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with _his_ Gallagher.

He gently gripped Ian’s arm, trying not to notice that his fingers wrapped around and touched. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“I can’t,” Ian whispered. “They’ll kill them.”

Mickey pulled him forward, cradling Ian to his chest. “What are you talking about, Gallagher?”

Ian tucked his face into Mickey’s neck. “Monica told them where home is. If I go back, they will kill everyone. I can’t go back, Mickey.”

Mickey shifted, bringing Ian’s long legs to the side, making Ian cry out in pain. “Work with me, man. Wrap your arms around my neck.”

After Ian did, mickey ran a soft hand over Ian’s legs. He saw a deep curved cut wrapping around his ankle that seemed to be weeks old but still horribly deep and open. Ian needed stitches and antibiotics, but first, Mickey needed to get him out of there. Ian was softly sobbing into his neck as he stood. “Please, Mick. Don’t take me home.”

Mickey struggled to his feet. Ian was curled in his arms, steadily crying. “We’ll go to my house. Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s sharp hipbones digging into his torso. He was skin and bones, making Mickey wonder when he last ate anything. He carried Ian back into the hallway before calling out to Lip.

“Fuck.” Lip said when he laid eyes on Ian.

Mickey ignored him as he carried him out the door. He took a fumbled into the backseat, not letting Ian go. “We need to go to my place.”

“No, he needs to home.” Lip started the car.

Mickey shook his head. “He’s fucking scared. I promised I wouldn’t take him there. Let me get him up and conscious before we do anything.”

Lip looked in the rearview mirror at Mickey and Ian, who was still crying in his neck. Mickey had brought a hand up and was running it through dull and grimy red hair. “Okay.”

When they pulled up to the Milkovich house, Ian was asleep. Mickey had tears burning his eyes as Lip opened the door for them. Mickey tucked Ian into his bed and grabbed Lip. He shoved him out into the living room.

“You need to go. He thinks you guys are in fucking danger or something. I’ll call you when he gets up.”

Lip looked like he was going to argue. He looked back to the closed door where Ian was sleeping. His brother looked like shit; he looked like he had been on one hell of a bender, and he didn’t know if he could trust Mickey. He thought back to a couple of months before when Ian came home bloody and sobbing. He knew it was Mickey, well not Mickey, but Terry, and that was the kicker. He knew that Ian was deeply in love with Mickey Milkovich. “Make sure you fucking call me.” Lip jabbed his finger in Mickey’s chest.

Mickey nodded and watched Lip leave. He didn’t like admitting it, but he was scared. He was absolutely fucking terrified. He had no idea what Ian had been up to, but he looked like shit. Ian was always the strong one- he was a rock. He walked back into the room, watching Ian sleep. He took a deep drag of his smoke, sliding down the wall to the floor. He looked at the deep bags under Ian’s eyes and wondered if Ian had been sleeping.

Ian’s face scrunched up in what appeared to be fear. Mickey crawled forward and pressed a firm hand to Ian’s face. “Ian, wake up.” Ian flinched away from the touch but opened his eyes.

“Mick?”

“Who else would it be?”

Ian looked around and gave him a small smile. “Am I in your bed?”

“I could have just dumped your ass on the floor.”

Ian’s smile fell, and he slowly reached for Mickey’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up.” Mickey let Ian grab his hand, but he flipped their hands and intertwined their fingers. “What’s going on?”

Ian squeezed his fingers as tightly as he could, but it was not very hard. “So, much. It’s so fucking much, Mick. Monica fucked me over.”

“She called Lip and told him where to find you.”

Ian shuddered. “She probably doesn’t even realize what she’s done.” His eyes were bright with rage. “Fucking Monica.” He spat. “I can’t go home; I probably shouldn’t be here.”

Mickey pulled him closer, so they were face to face. “Tell me what happened.”

“Her boyfriend or whatever kicked us out. I just wanted to come home. The next thing I know, she is sending me in this room with some guys I’d never met before.” He closed his eyes, trying not to cry again. When he opened them, they were blazing with rage and tears. “She fucking left me there. They gave her drugs, and she left me there, Mick. She fucking traded me.”

“Who are these fuckers?”

“You can’t do anything, Mick.”

“Fuck that. They fucking hurt you.”

Ian hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to do. He knew he couldn’t keep doing what he had been doing the last few months. If anyone could help him, it would be Mickey fucking Milkovich. “He owns a couple of bars in boys town. His name is Caleb Turner, and he’s probably looking for me. I couldn’t do it; I could do the dancing, but I wouldn’t let him turn me into a whore. He locked me up and wouldn’t let me eat until I’d fuck his clients. I don’t know how long I was down there, but I got out. I fucking ran.”

“Okay, okay. We can handle that.”

Ian started crying again. Mickey crawled up into bed, pulling Ian into his chest. Svetlana would be home soon, but he couldn’t care; Ian needed him. She had been practically living with that other whore since the boy had been born. He closed his eyes holding Ian tightly as he shook. In the morning, he would get Ian cleaned up and get some food in his belly.

The moon was bright in the sky when Mickey startled awake. Ian was still curled up next to him, but he was shivering and sweaty.

“Ian?”

Ian didn’t react. Mickey shifted, titling Ian’s head back, seeing the glassy eyes staring straight ahead. He didn’t seem to have a fever, but Mickey knew something was wrong. He rolled Ian on his back, sliding out from under him. He firmly grasped his cheek, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Ian, come back to me,” Mickey demanded.

Ian seemed to hear the words but was having a hard time swimming up from the fog. After a few moments, he blinked to clear away the images in his mind. “Mick?”

“There’s no one else, man.”

“My ankle hurts,” Ian said with confusion written on his face. He tried to reach down and touch it, but Mickey stopped the wondering hand.

“I bet it looks fucking bad. Once we get it cleaned up, we’ll see what we need to do next.” Mickey pushed the thin blanket down. “Let’s get you up and in the shower.”

“Don’t know if I can stand, Mick.” It was a whisper, but Mickey heard it.

“I’ve got you, okay. We’ll just stand to get you rinsed off, and then you can sit. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Tears filled Ian’s eyes again. “You don’t have to do that.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow with a small huff. “Yeah, I do. Hate to break it to you, but you fucking stink. After we get you all cleaned up, you’ll have to hang out on the couch while the sheets wash.”

Ian let out a small, breathy laugh, and it warmed Mickey. He was glad to see some of _his_ Ian in there. The trek to the bathroom was more demanding, with Ian awake. He wanted to walk, so Mickey hard to hold up his weight as they shuffled to the small bathtub. Ian sat on the edge while Mickey turned on the water ad helped him get undressed. Mickey stood under the warm water and heaved Ian up. Ian tried to force down a strangled scream as the water rushed over his body. After a few minutes and hasty rubbing Mickey helped Ian to sit on the bottom of the tub.

Ian’s head hit the tile with a low thump, but he didn’t seem to notice. His face was screwed up in pain from the burning of water flowing over his broken skin. Mickey grabbed a clean washcloth from under the sink. He gently washed Ian taking note of every cut and bruise. It looked like Ian had been beaten with a belt repeatedly for weeks because his back and legs were covered with a lattice of bruises in different stages of healing. Some of the areas were split so deeply they would scar.

When to he got to the ankle, and he paused with hands shaking. It was a familiar wound. He could clearly see there had been a metal cuff around the ankle, and Ian fought and tugged until it ate into his skin. Mickey feared when he started cleaning, and he might find exposed bone. He set down the cloth and ran a soft thumb along the edge of the wound, making Ian jerk the foot back with wide, startled eyes.

“I have to clean it, man. I know it hurts.”

He cleaned it as softly as he could, hoping Ian understood that he didn’t want to hurt him. After Ian was clean, he shut off the water and helped him out of the tub. Ian sat dazed on the toilet seat as mickey dried him and dressed him in large soft sweats and a jacket.

After he got Ian to the couch, he put the sheets in the was and made him some soup. While Ian was trying to eat his soup, Mickey called Lip, telling him to come over. He took his spot next to Ian on the couch, bundling him up in a blanket. When Lip got there, he didn’t knock, making Ian jump and grab Mickey’s hand under the blanket.

“Hey, Lip.” He muttered, trying to get his heart to calm.

“You okay, bud?” Lip kneeled in front of the couch, reaching out to touch his knee, but Ian flinched, making him jerk his hand back.

“Yeah, probably not, but I will be.” Ian tried to give him a warm smile. Mickey wanted to scoff at the false bravado Ian was putting on, but he held back.

“Why don’t you come home and have Vee look you over?”

“No!” Ian practically yelled. “Not yet. I can’t yet.”

Mickey leaned forward slightly as he pulled up the blanket showing Lip Ian’s ankle. “Take a picture of that or something and show it to her. Get him some antibiotics.”

“Fuck.” Lip muttered as he looked at the wound. He pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo for Vee. “You going to be okay here?” He asked Ian.

“Yeah,” Ian laid his head on the soft pillow Mickey had gotten for him earlier. “Just, don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

Lip stood, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “You don’t want everyone to know you’re okay? You want them to worry?”

It was a low blow, and Mickey could see the tears in his eyes. “Fuck off, Phillip. He’s not ready for them to know.” Mickey was desperately trying to convey to Lip how important it was that he keep his mouth shut.

Lip looked ready to argue, but he didn’t. He seemed to think better of it, but they had no control of his mouth once he left the Milkovich house. He left shortly after that, making Mickey scoff. He talked a big game, he had nearly got on his knees and begged Mickey to find Ian, but he didn’t stick around once he was there. It made Mickey hate him even more. Ian thought he was protecting his family by not telling them where he was, but Mickey could see how upset he was when Lip left.

When Ian woke from his doze, Mickey was sitting at the table talking to one of his brothers. He didn’t know which one it was, but he watched them whisper. Mickey slammed his fist on the table, startling Ian and the brother.

“Come on, Colin. Just find the guy.” Mickey raised his voice.

They both looked over to Ian, who was awake on the couch. “Caleb?” Ian asked.

Mickey looked away, but colin stepped closer. “Can you give me some more info, man? What’s this guy look like? Who are his friends?”

Ian pushed the blanket off, acting like he would get up, but couldn’t door more than lean forward. Mickey was at his side in a heartbeat helping him to his feet and into the kitchen. Ian could feel colin’s eyes on him as if he was studying him. Ian chanced a look at him and saw disgust making Ian blush. Mickey helped Ian to the chair and took a seat next to him.

“I can try,” Ian muttered.

Colin leaned forward, making sure Ian was looking him in the eyes. “Tell me anything you can; we’re going to make sure that fucker is dead by the end of the week.”

Ian gave him everything he knew. He described every room and every person he saw in obsessive detail. “He lives in this old studio on 96th.”

“You were there?” Colin asked.

Ian rubbed anxiously at his long fingers. “There’s a basement there.”

Colin didn’t understand, but Mickey did. “That’s where he kept you?”

Ian nodded, unable to vocalize a response. Colin looked between the two knowing he was missing something. “What do you mean kept him?”

Mickey shook his head, but Ian looked up with fire in his eyes. “He kept me chained to a wall in the basement.”

“Fuck.” Colin muttered, and Mickey closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. “How long?”

Ian shrugged, making Colin lean back heavily in his chair. Mickey reached out slowly and grabbed his thin knee, and squeezed. Colin looked between the two. He knew they were an item since his dad had found them, but he could see that Mickey loved Ian. He had always thought it was just fucking, but he knew better now. He would do anything to protect the redhead; that is how he could save his baby brother. After they cleaned up the Caleb mess, he would make sure the Russian and that baby clearly wasn’t Mickey’s, found their way back to Russia.

Mickey made Ian another bowl of soup as he sat at the table talking to Colin. Ian barely looked his way when he set the soup in front of him. He was entrapped in Colin’s charm. As the two joked, he looked over Ian again. He was glad his color was coming back, but he was so thin. Mickey was worried they needed to go to the hospital. He was scared that he wasn’t taking care of Ian the best.

Lip came rushing in but paused when he saw Colin and Ian sitting on the couch watching some shitty soap opera. He looked to Mickey, who was sitting on the floor in front of Ian. He was holding Ian’s feet under a pillow, keeping them warm.

“Mickey,” Mickey looked up as Lip tossed him a pill bottle. “Vee said take’em four times a day, but if it looks infected after 3 days, he needs to go to the hospital.”

“Come join us.” Ian smiled as he patted the spot next to him.

Lip shook his head. “Nah, man, I got to get back to the house.”

“Oh,” Ian’s shoulders slumped. “Alright.”

After Lip left, Ian dozed off as Mickey rubbed his calves. When Ian let out a small snore, Colin finally spoke up. “We’ll be paying Phillip a visit to remind him that what happens when you hurt one of ours.”

Mickey jerked, looking up at him. “Ours?”

“Yeah ours.”

The next morning Ian woke to yelling. He was still in bed, but Mickey was nowhere to be seen. He slowly sat up with a groan as the voices in the living room got louder.

“I fucking saw him!” Colin yelled.

Ian struggled to his feet, nearly falling when he got upright. His muscles ached and protested the movement.

“Then what’s the problem?” Mickey yelled back.

Ian could feel sweat starting to bead up on his skin as he slid his foot forward, trying to take a step. His head was woozy, and he was getting dizzy.

“It was fucking daylight! We can’t take a grown-ass man on the street where everyone can see. Are you even thinking?” An unknown voice spat at Mickey.

Ian felt his mouth water as nausea bubble in his gut. He knew he was pushing too much too soon, but he wanted to get out there. He wanted to know the plan; he wanted to be involved.

“I can’t fucking think! You haven’t seen what he’s done!”

Ian heard a thump as he leaned against the closed door. He thought Mickey had hit something. His breathing was coming in heavy pants as he turned the doorknob nearly out there. When the door opened, Ian fell face first on the worn floor busting his nose. Before he could even make a noise, Colin and mickey were at his side. “I’m sorry.” Ian cried out as they lifted him.

“Shush it, red,” Mickey said as they carried him to the couch. “You shouldn’t be up.”

“You were yelling,” Ian said as his head drooped onto Mickey’s shoulder. Colin lifted his feet, pulling them into his lap. Mickey covered him with the warm blanket before making off to the kitchen. Colin turned on the soap for them to watch as another brother stared from the corner. Mickey came back with a sandwich and Ian’s antibiotics and took a seat on the other side of Ian to hold him up.

“What the fuck?” The other brother finally spat out.

“Iggy.” Colin started from his spot on the couch.

Mickey held Ian’s arm keeping him in place. Iggy stepped forward, rage clearly written on his face. “No, what the fuck? You think I don’t know who this is? What the fuck happened to Ian Fucking Gallagher? The fucker who held Randy Perez’s head underwater for touching his sister. What happened?”

Colin took a deep breath snd rubbed at his temples. Ian looked at Iggy with a small smile. “I also broke all of his fingers when he didn’t take my warning seriously. Fucker thought I’d forget two years later that I told him his he ever touched her again I’d cut off all his fingers and make him eat them.”

“You didn’t, though,” Iggy said, plopping down in the chair.

Ian laughed. “No, I didn’t. I bent all his fingers back and shoved them in his mouth.” Ian gave him a bright smile shaking in laughter at the memory. “You should have seen his face when I pulled out the tape. He had to have someone cut his broken hand free or eat his fingers, so it was worth it.”

_____________________Here is the -- [Randy Perez Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078448) \--If you want it__________________________

To say Ian was happy was an overstatement, but he was the most content he had been since he left almost nine months ago. He had his eyes closed and was in a happy, nearly asleep state as the Milkovichs planned murder. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Caleb deserved anything they did to him.

A few days later, there was a knock at the bedroom door. Mickey quietly extracted himself from Ian and slipped out into the living room. Colin and Iggy were standing there in the dark.

“It’s done,” Colin said.

Mickey heaved a sigh of relief. He wanted to be the one to kill the fucker, but Colin had talked him out of it. He didn’t want to go to prison.

“There were six of them in the ring, or whatever,” Iggy said. “There is no one to look for him anymore. They’re all gone, Mick.”

Mickey felt his breathing get easier as anxiety started to ease from his body. “What happened?”

Colin shrugged. “We did what we had to do.”

Iggy looked away, seemingly ashamed. “We uh,” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We told them we wanted to buy a whore. They walked us down to the basement.”

“Fuck.” Ian said from the doorway. No one had heard him get up or open the door. “Was there anyone down there?”

Colin looked at him with tears in his eyes. “How long were you hiding away and healing before Mick found you?”

Ian shivered, pulling his robe tight. “Why?” Ian leaned against the door. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Ian,” Colin’s voice was tortured. “Those boys, we took them to the hospital. They were fucked up.”

Iggy scratched at the back of his head. “They didn’t even know where they were.”

“Yeah?” Ian asked, but he knew the answer. “I mean, I don’t know. It was a few weeks, at least. I don’t know.” He looked away, seemingly examining his nails.

“Sure, red, We believe you.” Iggy scoffed.

Mickey grabbed Ian by the head, pulling him down to press a kiss to his temple. He was almost glad he found Ian when he did. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t know if he would have been able to handle it. He would have taken care of Ian no matter what, but he would have lost his mind in a rage. He would probably be in prison with no chance of leaving. He was glad they were dead.

Ian woke slowly. It was the first time since Mickey had found him that he had not woken from a nightmare. He rolled over and looked at his savior, his _boyfriend._ Not that Mickey felt like a boyfriend, he felt like a word that Ian did not have in his vocabulary. He couldn’t describe how Mickey felt to him, but he knew that he was ruined- ruined for anyone else. He loved Mickey more than anything else in the world. He would give his last breath to call his name, and that terrified him.

When Ian left originally, it was because he loved Mickey in a way that Mickey couldn’t reciprocate. He didn’t feel like it was the same anymore, but a lot of it was. He wondered that when Terry got out if Mickey would shove him away again. Ian was dreading that day. He feared he wouldn’t survive it, and he didn’t think Mickey would either. Terry would eventually kill him, either by his own hand or as the result of something he did or said. Ian tucked his nose against Mickey’s neck, taking a deep breath. He loved the way Mickey smelled.

He crawled out of bed and headed to the living room. Colin was sitting on the could watching soaps. This wouldn’t be a surprise to Ian if it weren’t seven in the morning. Colin turned and looked at him with a small smile. Sometimes Ian found it hilarious that the big bad thug Colin Milkovich was such a softie.

“You’re up early,” Colin said.

“I could say the same to you,” Ian said as he bumbled into the kitchen to make some coffee. “What’s up?”

“I did something.”

“Okay? You feel guilty or something?” Ian asked, grabbing his favorite mug.

“No,” Colin hesitated, looking at the tv. He looked back to Ian with a frown. “But no one noticed, and I don’t know how to bring it up. I don’t know how to tell you guys.”

Ian felt his heart race. “Colin?”

He stood and stepped into the kitchen. “The commie is gone. She took that boy with her.”

Ian stood at his full height as he tugged at the sleeves of his long sleeve shirt. “Colin? What happened? What did you do?”

“All I did was make a few calls.” He scratched at his face as he shrugged. “After I found out that the marriage wasn’t legal. Mickey was never married to her.” He sighed, making Ian nervous. “I called ICE. I snitched.” He spat, making Ian laugh.

“You had her deported? Like fucking really?” Ian was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

Colin smiled at him, glad it made him happy, but he frowned as Ian fell to the floor, and the laughs became sobs. Ian was on his knees and holding on to the counter with a death grip. He remembered everything that whore had brought down on them. He was pulled into the memory of the morning that Terry found them. He didn’t see Colin kneeled in front of him, calling his name; all he could see was Terry beating Mickey. He couldn’t feel Mickey grabbing his face trying to force eye contact. He didn’t feel himself shove Mickey away as he scrambled back, clutching at his own chest as he screamed out sobs. He saw that whore raping the man he loved. He saw her in the ugly white dress on their wedding day. He saw the tears in Mickey’s eyes as he broke Ian’s heart. Ian saw himself leaving and all the horrors that brought him.

Colin didn’t know what to do, so he had started screaming for Mickey. Neither of them had seen Ian act like this before. Mickey rushed in, falling to his knees before Ian.

“Ian, babe, what’s wrong?” He cupped Ian’s face, not expecting the hard shove pushing him away.

Ian scrambled back, yelling no. “Ian?” Mickey crawled forward.

Ian was clawing at his now scarred ankle. “Please no.” He whimpered, making Mickey and Colin’s heart shatter. “No, I’ll be good, I swear.”

Colin felt his knees go week, so he fell to his knees next to his brother. When they saw that Ian’s nails had started drawing blood, they both rushed forward. Colin grabbed both his hands, stopping him from scratching, and Mickey wrapped him in a tight bear hug. Ian started kicking and screaming, but they both held tight. Mickey began shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. After a few minutes, Ian went limp in his arms, sobbing and whispering.

“I can run. Please, please, it hurts.”

Mickey brought one hand up and started running his hand through Ian’s hair. Ian tucked his face into Mickey’s neck, whimpering.

“Shush. You are okay. You are safe.” Mickey spoke loudly and clearly, hoping Ian heard him.

Colin let his hands go and sat down heavily, watching the two of them.

“Mick?” Ian asked, shaking his head lightly.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Ian turned, wrapping his arms around Mickey, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“Waking you up, being a burden.” It was a whisper, but Mickey heard it.

“Shut the fuck up. That’s not fucking true, and I don’t want to hear you say that ever again.” Mickey pulled Ian into his lap and cradled him.

“I’m sorry, Ian,” Colin said from his spot on the floor.

Ian jerked up from Mickey’s hold. “No, Colin, It was good news. So good, I am so happy.”

“Then what was this?” Mickey asked as he pulled them both to their feet.

Ian grabbed his now cold coffee. “I was stuck in that day, the day everything went to shit.”

Mickey froze and looked at Colin. They had never talked about it, and he didn’t know how he would react. In the beginning, he worried that Colin would agree with Terry, but now he didn’t know. “Oh,” Mickey said.

“Then I thought about how that’s why I left, and everything that has happened because I left.” Ian turned to face them. “I was stuck, and I still blame her, and I blame Terry, and I am fucking terrified.”

Colin looked to Mickey for an explanation, but he was staring at Ian. “Me too.”

“What the fuck are you guys talking about? What does dad have to do with this?” Colin asked, and Ian looked away.

Mickey eyed Ian, who was curling in on himself. Ian knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, but hearing Mickey talk about it could be one of the most painful things he’d ever felt. Mickey looked back to Colin with a frown. “You don’t know? Terry never said anything?”

“I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“Terry caught us fucking.” Mickey started.

“Wait! How long have you guys been together?”

Ian huffed out a small chuckle. “It’s been almost three years.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Do you want to know what happened or not?” Mickey spat. Colin nodded. “You guys were supposed to be gone for three days. I still don’t know why you came home earlier, but he walked in while we were fucking. He hit Ian, busted his nose, I think. Without even fucking thinking, I jumped on his back. He beat the fuck out of me then pulled a gun. He had it pointed at Ian.” Mickey looked over at Ian, but he had his eyes closed. “He called Svetlana and told her to fuck the fag out of me.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter.“I don’t know what happened after that.”

Ian jerked up, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh, yeah, I left.”

“You left Mickey there?” Colin asked in confusion.

Ian turned away, not looking either in the eyes. “Mhm, sure, yeah.”

“You left? After dad busted up your face and had Mickey raped, you left?” Colin picked up on Ian lying, and so did Mickey.

“I barely remember why happened with the Russian, so why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Ian turned back around but did not make eye contact he was looking down at the cold coffee in his hands. “Not much to say about it.” He shrugged. “She fucked you, and you passed out. He handed her some cash, and she left.”

“Then you left?” Mickey asked.

Ian nodded. “Yeah.” His eyes filled with tears again.

“Ian, you know you had to leave, right?”

“I think I’m going to go shower.” Ian backed away.

“Ian, stop.” Mickey reached out to grab his arm, but he flinched. That was more telling than the avoidance. “What happened after I passed out.”

Ian shrugged, “I don’t know if you were passed out or whatever; your eyes were open, but you didn’t react to anything. You may have just been concussed from the pistol whip.”

“I’m not asking about me.” Mickey gently grabbed his hand, keeping him still.

“Look, I just can’t be around when he gets out.” Ian’s tears began to fall.

“Ian, what did he do?”

“I thought you knew, so I never said anything. It’s not a big deal, okay.” Ian tried to tug his hand away. “After everything else, it just hurt or whatever.”

“So, he hurt you?” Colin asked.

“He still had the gun, so I had to just go along. Look, Mick, I thought you knew. I thought you were awake.” Mickey wouldn’t let go of his hand. “I mean, I was on top of you; I didn’t know.”

“You were on top of Mickey while dad hurt you? How did he hurt you? Did he hit you some more?”

Mickey stepped closer; he remembered a nightmare he had all the time. He had always thought it was in his imagination, but Ian looked devastated. Mickey dropped his hand in shame. “I couldn’t move. I thought it was a nightmare. Ian, why didn’t you say anything?” Mickey brought both hands up and started to tug at his hair. “You were fucking crying next to my face, and I couldn’t fucking move. I couldn’t even bring my hands up to shove him off.” Mickey’s eyes were wide, and tears were freely falling. Colin was scared for him to finish. When Mickey spoke again, his voice was raw and tear clogged. “He fucked you over my useless body.” Mickey took a step back. “And you thought I knew. Fuck! You thought I knew and stopped talking to you.”

“Mick, you didn’t know.”

“Fuck!” Mickey yelled, making Ian flinch and step back.

Mickey looked at him with wide eyes after seeing him flinch away. His face was red and swollen from tears, but he still turned and walked away. He left Colin and Ian alone in the house. He didn’t hear Ian sob as he slid down the wall or Colin’s heavy breathing as he fought the tears in his own eyes.

When he came back, Colin was still sitting on the floor in the dark. Ian was nowhere to be found, and he hoped he was in bed. Mickey walked over to Colin and held out his hand to help him up. Colin looked up at him with wide sad eyes. His world had just flipped upside down.

“Get up, man,” Mickey said.

“How did I not know?” Colin grabbed his hand, letting himself be pulled up.

“Didn’t want you to know.” Mickey looked to his closed door. “He in there?”

Colin nodded but didn’t say anything. He had somethings to do. He needed to make sure Terry Milkovich never left prison. Mickey walked up to the bedroom door and softly knocked. Ian didn’t answer, but he stepped in anyways. Ian was curled up in bed, but he was wide awake. Mickey stripped down and crawled into bed with him.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Ian pulled him close, pressing his nose into the soft skin of his neck. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I should have stopped him.” Mickey cried.

“I should have stopped that commie whore.” Ian whispered. He knew he couldn’t have, but that is why he said it. There was nothing Mickey could have done either.

“He would have killed you.”

“I know, and he would have killed you,” Ian whispered in his ear, wrapping him in a tight hug.

It was mid-afternoon, but they both fell asleep. A few weeks later, they got some of the best news they had ever heard. Terry Milkovich was dead. Ian looked over to Colin when they got the call, but his face was purposely blank. Ian knew better, though, and he would take the secret to the grave. Colin had given them a second chance. Ian never had to fear that Terry would come back into their lives and pull Mickey away. They had a long road ahead of them, but he was prepared to do anything to make sure it worked out. Ian was ready to live his life with Mickey. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, pulling him into a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to his temple with a smile, and Colin watched them from the couch with a grin stretched across his face. For the first time in a long time, he was proud of his family.


End file.
